Fall Apart, Come Back Together
by tinyinara
Summary: Neal hates it when Peter disciplines him, but he's not so opposed to the comfort that comes after. Warning: Contains spanking of an adult.


**SUMMARY: **Neal hates the spanking part, but he's not quite so opposed to the moments that come after.

**NOTE: **This is less of a traditional story, and more a contemplation from Neal's point of view. (Written as gen, not slash, though I guess it's open to interpretation!)

**WARNING:** Story contains M/M spanking / adult discipline. If you don't like that sort of thing, then this fic is not for you!

**DISCLAIMER:**I don't own _White Collar_. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not making any money from this.

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Neal would never say that it was worth it. Absolutely not. No way.

Neal hated almost the entire experience, with a depth of dislike normally reserved only for guns, prison, and badly-fitting off-the-rack suits. In fact, Neal would go so far as to say he hated the experience _more_ than off-the-rack suits.

He hated the look that Peter would get in his eyes beforehand – that disappointed, frustrated, or just flat-out angry expression. He despised the way his stomach would twist and his throat would tighten as he waited for Peter to announce the inevitable sentence. If there happened to be a delay before that sentence could be carried out, then he also loathed the way his butt would tingle in anticipation, and the nervous heat that would prickle across his face when anyone looked at him – as though they could actually _tell_ that the suave, stylish, sophisticated Neal Caffrey would soon be ass up over his handler's knee, squirming and begging and promising to be good.

He dreaded the moment just before it began, when Peter would call him – or, on a day when Peter was running low on patience, _drag_ him – to his side, ready to be pulled across his lap like a child. He hated the way his feet would shift uneasily of their own accord as Peter would snag a finger through the fastening on his pants and have them down around his knees a few horrible seconds later. And he detested how ungainly and ridiculous and _helpless_ he felt when he finally found himself sprawled over Peter's thighs.

All of that paled in comparison though, to the way he felt about the next part. The part where Peter would bring his hand down hard, over and over and _over_, spreading an angry fire across Neal's butt and thighs as Neal would twist in his grasp, writhing and bucking and not managing to escape even one of the burning smacks. That was the worst part, when the pain would swell through him, and he would feel it rise like a tidal wave, mingling with the guilt and building until it was overpowering, unbearable, uncontainable, until it came crashing through his carefully maintained walls.

And then he would fall apart under Peter's hands and sob as if his heart was breaking.

He _really_ hated that.

The part that came afterwards, though, was… not quite so bad. He had grown accustomed to the way that Peter would let him lie there for a few minutes, rubbing his back whilst he cried out his hurt and regret, and then would gently pull up his pants for him and give him a final light pat on his still-throbbing backside. He had started to appreciate the part where Peter would lift him up whilst he was still shaky with the last of his tears, and settle him down next to him on the couch, with one strong, solid arm around his shoulders. And he was growing almost fond of the times when Peter's hand would squeeze his upper arm or find its way to his head and softly ruffle his hair.

It was hard to deny that Neal quite _liked_ the quiet moments when he would let himself lean into Peter's hold and Peter would tell him in that low, measured tone, that it was okay, that he could calm down now, that he'd taken it well (even when Neal knew he hadn't, even when Neal knew he'd struggled and thrashed, and tried to reason and plead, and on one embarrassing occasion even _bribe_ his way out of it). Peter would say how much he hated to spank him, but that he would do everything he could to keep him out of jail, that he wanted Neal to be safe and happy and free. Sometimes Peter would tell him how good he could be if he tried, how good he really _was_ most of the time, and then he would tell him – every time – that he _mattered_. To the bureau, to the people he helped, to El. To Peter.

Neal didn't hate that.

He didn't hate the strange lightness that came in the hours afterwards, either – the feeling that the constant pressure inside him had eased, and that maybe he could relax, even if just for a short while, because Peter was there, and Neal had somewhere he belonged.

It still wasn't worth it, of course, to go through a spanking. But sometimes… Neal thought that it was _almost_ worth it.

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**Reviews would be very much loved :)**


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